


According to Schedule

by CactusPot



Series: Scourtney College Shenanigans [1]
Category: Total Drama (Cartoon)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Chance Meetings, College, F/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, and scott is as dopey as ever, courtney has some rigid coping mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26623306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CactusPot/pseuds/CactusPot
Summary: “Yeah, uh, can I have a black coffee, please?”The nasal voice jilted Courtney’s hand. Her writing smudged. Her head whipped up. She stared at the counter. There, ordering a beverage, stood a ginger boy. Angling hid both his face and the freckles dotting it, but she’d already heard his voice, which was all the confirmation Courtney needed.“Scott.” The name slipped out louder than Courtney had intended. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but he’d already turned towards her.---Just over a year after her last appearance on Total Drama, Courtney's junior year of college has begun. Turns out she's not the only ex-contestant on campus anymore.
Relationships: Courtney/Scott (Total Drama)
Series: Scourtney College Shenanigans [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2062965
Comments: 10
Kudos: 24





	According to Schedule

Tuesday morning. 8:40. As usual, Courtney sat at her in the corner booth of the campus Tim Hortons. As usual, Courtney sipped her coffee—one cream, no sugars—as she reviewed the day’s itinerary written in her floral agenda book. As usual, Courtney had already completed all her homework for her first class of the day, which started in thirty minutes. 

With her favorite antique fountain pen, Courtney sliced lines through completed assignments. There really was no need, she mused, to check her agenda book every morning. Though only two fortnights had elapsed since the start of her junior year’s fall semester, Courtney knew her schedule like the back of her hand. Each class had ingrained itself into her memory, every extracurricular meeting had inked itself on the walls of her hippocampus. Despite knowing everything, Courtney found solace in checking and rechecking her schedule.

Various students strolled into Tim Hortons; over her eco-friendly coffee mug, Courtney assessed them. She knew plenty of the customers—a peer from sophomore-year psychology, the captain of the debate team, a pianist from her music elective, to name a few. Courtney didn’t acknowledge any of them. Certainly, they had their own plans for the morning, just as she did; a chance conversation would be a burden on both parties.

At least, that’s the way Courtney saw it.

She glanced down at her agenda book again and, with her eyes, traced the curls of her letters. Her handwriting had gotten messier recently; in particular, her Ss swirled dramatically like the creamer in her coffee.

 _Note to self_ , Courtney thought as she raised said coffee to her lips. _Take time to improve penmanship_. The only break in her schedule she could find was a half-hour between her 4:00 Thursday therapy session and 5:00 taekwondo club meeting. She’d fix her writing then.

Courtney wrote down the new activity—taking extra care to ensure neat pen strokes—and didn’t bother glancing up when the door jingled again. 

“Yeah, uh, can I have a black coffee, please?”

The nasal voice jilted Courtney’s hand. Her writing smudged. Her head whipped up. She stared at the counter. There, ordering a beverage, stood a ginger boy. Angling hid both his face and the freckles dotting it, but she’d already heard his voice, which was all the confirmation Courtney needed.

“Scott.” The name slipped out louder than Courtney had intended. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but he’d already turned towards her. When his eyes found her, they widened with recognition, and he waved bashfully.

 _It’s not too late to leave now_ , Courtney told herself. She expeditiously gathered her agenda book and slipped it into her messenger bag. _Yes, this disrupts your morning routine, but anything is better than reliving memories from_ that show _._

Her haste sent her fountain pen clattering to the floor. The pen’s barrel cracked on impact. Ink gushed out and spurted across the floor. Courtney, momentarily stupefied, helplessly watched the mini murder scene unfold before her.

“Oh no.” Coffee and Scott both forgotten, Courtney snatched a wad of napkins from the table and dabbed at the spill. _I shouldn’t have bought such a volatile pen_ , she lamented as she scrubbed. _Oh hubris, must you curse me so_!

A pair of sneakers appeared in her peripheral vision. Had one of the staff come to help her?

“I’ve got it, don’t wor—” Courtney looked up and choked on her words. Coffee in hand, Scott stood over her.

“Well, this wasn’t how I expected to see you again.”

“Shut up and help me,” Courtney huffed, “or leave me alone.” Her hands, embarrassingly, shook. The ink permeated the cracks in between the floor tiling. She brushed loose hair out of her face and noticed too late the ink staining her fingers. 

This was so far out of the usual, Courtney was half-sure she was dreaming.

Scott amassed his own clump of napkins, crouched down, and wiped. 

“Always liked getting my hands dirty,” he said awkwardly. 

Courtney didn’t laugh. _If this stains do I have to pay the manager recompense? Are they gonna expel me? They can’t expel me, right? Argh, I shouldn’t have fired my lawyers. And what about class? This throws off my entire_ day—

“I’m just curious, but are you ignoring me because you’re still upset over the whole sundae business?”

“Can we just”—Courtney scrubbed harder—“wait until after this mess is cleaned up to talk pleasantries?”

Her direct words startled Scott, and he nodded swiftly. “Yes, ma’am.”

They worked side by side. Scott whistled a country tone until Courtney told him to knock it off. Her face flushed from irritation, humiliation, and exertion. After their napkins were used up and the majority of the ink was off the floor, Courtney retrieved a staff member and explained the situation. He was understandably miffed but agreed to finish the clean-up.

Courtney wrapped her antique pen in a layer of napkins—she’d clean it off later, in her dorm room—and hustled out of the Tim Hortons as fast as her legs could carry her.

“Courtney! Wait up!” Scott’s voice again. Hadn’t he caused enough trouble for today?

She halted in her tracks, steeling herself for the inevitable interaction. When Scott caught up to her, she plastered on her most prim, political smile. “Hello, Scott.”

Without the distraction of an exploded pen, she could properly discern all the changes that had taken place in the one year and two months since she’d last seen him. Scott’s typical white undershirt was now accompanied by a musty blue flannel. Trademark college-boy stubble lined his broad chin; it suited him, to be honest, and she hated herself for even thinking so. The smell of coffee masked Scott’s usual sewer-rat smell—or maybe he’d finally learned how to use a deodorant stick.

“Sooo.” Scott cleared his throat. “You’re lookin’ nice today. How’ve ya been?”

“Um, pretty good.” Awkward silence. Courtney was itching to check the time on her phone, itching to get out of this conversation, but also itching to learn: “What are you doing here?”

“I go here. As a student, I mean.”

“ _Here_?” Courtney repeated. “But this is one of the top pre-law schools in the country!” She winced and backpedaled. “My apologies. That was rude.”

Scott shrugged. “No biggie. I’m not here for law, sweetheart. Majorin’ in business.”

“Ah.” She started walking—class started soon, after all—and he followed like a lost puppy.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” Courtney said. “Especially not in Tim Hortons, and I go there every day.” Although that was subject to change; after today’s fiasco, she’d either have to write a lengthy apology letter or locate a new morning-coffee spot. Just another task to add to her chockablock calendar.

“I’ve only been here four weeks.”

Courtney rubbed her temple. _Right, he’s a freshman. Forgot that detail_.

“And usually I only eat off my meal plan,” Scott continued, “but I passed my first English quiz yesterday and I figured hey, that’s reason to celebrate with a coffee.” He took a swig from his cup.

Courtney eyed it. “Your idea of a celebratory beverage is black coffee?”

“What can I say?” Scott wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Reminds me of the dirt back home.”

 _Crass as usual_ , Courtney thought.

“Well it was, ah, nice to see you,” she said, shifting her messenger bag so it rested more comfortably on her shoulder. “I have a class soon, so I’ll be going now.”

“Wait!” Scott’s hurried tone caused Courtney to cringe internally. “Do ya wanna eat lunch together? Maybe catch up?”

“Would love to,” Courtney lied, “but I have a very packed schedule. It would be hard to fit you in.”

“Ya sure?” Scott tilted his head. “Is it ‘cause you still think I look like a rat?”

Courtney blinked. That _dang_ chart! “No! I never said you looked like a rat.”

“You drew a rat tail on me.”

“If that irks you, why would you want to eat lunch with me?”

“‘Cause,” Scott huffed, his pale cheeks coloring slightly, “I know we didn’t leave things on the best terms. But we only knew each other for, like, a week and a half. Gimme a chance, just to talk.”

It was true. Despite Courtney’s unsavory memories of _that_ particular season of _that_ particular show, she’d only “gone out” with Scott for three days, at max. Maybe just one lunch with him wouldn’t suck?

“Alright,” Courtney agreed. “My seminar ends at 12:40. Do you want to meet me at the food court then?”

“Sounds good, pretty lady,” Scott purred.

Courtney’s face twisted. “Please don’t call me that.”

After Scott fumbled through an apology, they parted ways. Courtney spent her morning classes fretting. She had a _schedule_ for crying out loud! Even if technically she was still eating lunch at the appointed time, Scott was an unaccounted-for variable, and those rarely bode well for her.

 _This isn’t a mistake, right_? Since _that show_ , Courtney had done a good job avoiding mistakes of catastrophic magnitude, and she wasn’t keen on breaking her streak.

 _It’s just lunch_ , she reminded herself. _It really is just lunch_.

At 12:45, Courtney walked into the food court which bustled with activity. She made quick work of locating Scott; he leaned against a pillar near the start of the buffet line, whistling and observing the ceiling.

“Wait long?” she asked when she reached his side.

“Don’t worry, I got here like a minute ago,” he assured her. “Alrighty, let’s go get some grub!”

He let her go first, a subtle reminder chivalry _wasn’t_ dead. Courtney moved through the line, following the plan she’d written at the start of the semester: Tuesdays were salad days. She picked out a Gado-gado salad, a water bottle, and an oatmeal-raisin cookie.

Scott, on the other hand, ordered a chicken sandwich and iced tea.

“Let me guess,” Courtney said as they walked outside to find a free table. “The crunchy texture of the fried chicken reminds you of dirt.”

He laughed. “Nah, I just love me some chicken.”

They sat down at a tiny table overlooking the campus lawn.

“So what _is_ the deal with that?” Courtney drizzled dressing onto her salad. “I thought you were in love with your farm and your dirt and your pigs. Why are you here, in the city, studying business?”

Scott chewed his chicken. “Sure, I got great memories on the ol’ farm, but I’ve always wanted to get out there, get rich, and live large.”

“We both have high ambitions then,” Courtney said. _Have we talked about this before_? She couldn’t recall, but then again, their “relationship” had been three days long and ended over a year ago; any conversations excluded from the aired television footage remained hazy in her mind.

Scott kept going. “If I had won Total Drama”—Courtney flinched at both name drop and the fact he was spraying chicken bits everywhere—“I would’ve invested the money in stocks. Course, I don’t know how stocks work, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually.”

She jabbed her fork in his direction, “I’d appreciate it if you don’t get your lunch all over me.”

Sheepishly, Scott wiped his mouth and mumbled an apology that was followed by: “Wait, you’re not a vegetarian, are you?”

“No,” Courtney said. “I don’t have a problem with the chicken, I have a problem with the chicken _leaving your mouth_ and getting all over my cardigan.”

“Okay, good.” Scott chuckled. “Zoey just started a thirty-day vegetarian challenge and won’t _shut up_ about it in the group chat. I don’t care how pretty you are, I’m not sittin’ through another lecture on how meat is bad for you.”

Courtney wasn’t sure how to respond to his compliment, so she chose another part of his chatter to address instead. “The… group chat?”

“Anne Maria started a cast group chat after Revenge ended. Jo’s kicked me out multiple times, but Brick always adds me back in. I don’t think anyone _wants_ me in it, but they won’t let me leave ‘cause it’s _so_ important to have the _whole_ gang together.” He shrugged, apparently accepting his role as odd-one-out. “What about you? Who do you still talk to from the show?”

Courtney took a long, long sip from her water bottle. “So, what classes are you taking this semester?”

The conversation shifted to college life. Relieved to be talking about something _other_ than reality TV, Courtney readily dispensed advice on the best courses to take, advantageous studying habits, and her favorite clubs. Scott’s funny anecdotes had her giggling against her better judgment.

“How was _I_ supposed to know we had a test that day?” he said after a story about oversleeping and missing his ethics exam. 

“Maybe if you _read_ the syllabus?” Courtney teased.

“I _did_ read the syllabus. And I thought it was boring, so I threw it in the trash.”

“Scott! You can’t do that! You’re gonna fail the class.”

“Ethics shmethics. I can just buy the test answers off some dude on the black market.”

The irony of cheating in a business ethics class was not lost on Courtney. A smile quirked at her lips. “I’ll tell the dean if you do,” she replied, only half-joking.

Scott playfully stuck his tongue out at her. Courtney rolled her eyes, reached to take another bite of salad, and realized she’d polished it off.

“It’s been fun, but I should probably get going.” She offered him no further explanation.

Scott twiddled his straw between his fingers. “Uh, can I get your number before you scamper off?”

Courtney paused. “My _number_?”

“Yeah. So we can talk and stuff.” Disquiet clouded his steel-blue eyes. “Unless you don’t _want_ to talk to me.”

She hesitated, remember the rule she’d implemented last January: don’t text anyone from _that show_. And yet, lunch hadn’t ended in an embarrassing hissy fit. Maybe, just this once, she could make an exception for Scott and his pretty blue eyes.

She extended her hand. After a beat of incomprehension, Scott got the message and passed over his phone. Courtney typed her first name and number into his contacts list.

“Your screen is positively execrable.” She wrinkled her nose and returned his phone.

He looked at her peculiarly. “Er...”

She sighed. “Greasy. Disgusting. Grimy.”

“Blame the chicken sandwich.” With the corner of his flannel, Scott wiped clean the screen and slipped it back into his pocket. While he did that, Courtney checked her own phone. Startled by the time, she leaped to her feet. 

“Gotta go!” Courtney slung her messenger bag over her shoulder. “I’m two minutes behind schedule!”

“I’ll, uh, text you?” Scott called after her.

Courtney didn’t bother glancing back. “You do that!” She was practically sprinting. Her double-timing paid off, and Courtney arrived at her next class ten minutes early as usual. 

Her minute-by-minute schedule kept her occupied for most of the afternoon. On the whole, Courtney remained focused. However, in the brief transitory moments between one task and the next, Courtney would check her phone, waiting for the inevitable text. It never showed up. Even after 5:45 dinner, her text notifications remained mysteriously empty.

 _What if Scott’s not actually gonna text me and he’s selling my number to maniacal fangirls_? It was an outlandish thought, but Courtney gave in to her paranoia and mulled it over anyways. The Scott she’d known had been goofy and dorky, but she’d watched season four; Scott could be manipulative and devious when he wanted to be.

 _Way to go, Courtney_ , she griped during her 6:15 de-stressing yoga routine. _You just can’t stop jeopardizing your political career, can you_? If her phone number got leaked, there was no telling what disasters could befall her.

Despite the misgivings accumulating at the back of her mind, Courtney persisted with her routine. After the yoga came an hour of dedicated studying. Courtney rummaged around for her antique pen. Hopefully, she could refill the barrel and it would still be of some use to her. However, her search was fruitless; the pen was nowhere to be found.

 _Where is that fricking pen_? Courtney’s brow furrowed. _Ugh, don’t tell me I lost it. I could’ve sold that thing for cash_!

After a few minutes, Courtney surrendered the search, procured another pen, and began her studying, albeit still annoyed.

At 7:53, Courtney’s suitemate knocked at her bedroom door.

“Yo, C. There’s some freshman at the door for you.”

Courtney’s knee jerked and she stopped writing. “Ginger hair? Blue eyes?”

“Sounds about right.” The suitemate slunk back to her own room. Courtney snatched her phone, abandoned her desk, and marched into the common room. As she’d anticipated, Scott leaned against the door frame, examining his cuticles.

“How did you know where my suite is?” Courtney demanded immediately.

“Nice to see you too.” Scott jumped to attention and offered her an abashed grin. “Your RA told me where you lived. Sorry if that freaks you out; I have—”

“Why didn’t you text me earlier? You didn’t sell my information online, did you? ‘Cause if you did, I’ll—”

“Woah, woah!” Scott’s hands flew up in self-defense. “Take it easy, Court. Nobody sold anything. I was just busy, is all.”

“Oh. Okay.” She could accept busy. “What kept you so busy?”

“Umm…” Scott hesitated. “Book club.” 

“But book club meets on Thursdays. Today is Tuesday.”

“It’s a new book club! Founded it myself.”

“Oh _really_?”

“Yup.” Scott nodded vigorously. “People call me illiterate, but I know my way around a book.”

Courtney eyed him for a beat, then decided that, for now, she’d let slide his flimsy defense. “So you were busy. What brings you to my suite so late?”

“You dropped this”—Scott fished around in his pocket and pulled out an object—“when you were running off after lunch.”

“My pen!” Courtney scooped it up and examined it. The barrel was still stained with ink; she wiped it clean as she spoke. “I was looking all over for this! Thank you so much, Scott.”

“No prob, Court.” Scott shrugged. “I’ll, uh, see you around then.” He reached over to close the door.

“Wait.” Courtney put her foot in front of the door, blocking it from closing entirely. “You really don’t have anything else to say?”

“...Nope?”

“Oh, cut the act, Scott.” Courtney gave him a look. “We both know your book club alibi is flawed. What gives?” 

“ _Nothing_ ,” Scott insisted.

“It’s gotta be something!” 

They went on like that for several moments until Courtney’s suitemate yelled at them to keep it down.

“Fine!” Courtney yelled back. In a more civilized tone, she said, “Let me walk you out, Scott.”

“Don’t you have, uh”—Scott tapped an invisible watch—“a scheduled thingy to get to?”

Courtney’s 8:00 facial-scrub-and-teeth-brushing-routine was waiting for her, but she shook her head firmly. “Nothing I can’t push back a half-hour. I’m awfully curious as to why you lied to me.”

She pocketed the antique pen, shut the door behind them, and they walked down the dorm hallway.

“So?” Courtney prompted after a few minutes of silence.

“Well I just figured”—Scott looked at the ground as he spoke—“that maybe you _didn’t_ want to talk to me after all, since you sprinted off faster than Lightning after lunch. I know when I’m not wanted.”

“Oh please. I was just late for class,” Courtney said snippily. _Don't be a jerk, Courtney. You're working on that_. In a less abrasive tone, she added, “It was nothing personal, I promise.” 

They reached the end of the hallway; Courtney pushed the elevator button, and they stepped inside.

“You sure ‘bout that?” Scott said. “I noticed you didn’t answer my question earlier, so I thought maybe—”

“What question?”

“I asked if you kept in touch with anyone from TD, but you changed the subject.”

Hmm. Scott was more perceptive than she’d given him credit for. And for that, she rewarded him with an explanation. “After All Stars started airing in January, I deleted my socials and cut off what few correspondences I had with my fellow castmates.” Since she’d only been talking with two people—Bridgette and DJ—the whole process was pretty easy; their conversations had pittered off by the season finale.

“You hated Total Drama that much? Dang, I didn’t know. I mean, sure, I got mauled several times, but screwing with Zoey and Mike was pretty entertaining.”

“You were only there for two seasons,” Courtney snapped. “I was there for _four_. Our ‘relationship’ lasted three days, tops. My relationship with you-know-who went on-and-off for the better part of two years.” Not to mention the whole cheating fiasco. Courtney leaned against the elevator wall. “It was so tiring, Scott. At the end of the day, no one was innocent, and everyone was hurt. Can you _blame_ me for wanting nothing to do with the show?”

“Guess I can’t.” Scott was quiet for a moment; this was the most contemplative she’d ever seen him. It was weird.

“Erm,” Scott said after a few beats, “sorry if seein’ me brought back painful memories, Court. If it makes you feel better, I’ll delete your number. I swear on Pappy’s prized hog.”

Courtney ran a hand through her bangs. “You don’t have to do that.” She glanced over at him; puzzlement was scribbled across his face. “To be candid,” she admitted, “today is the first in a while I’ve deviated from my schedule, and to my utter shock, armageddon didn’t rain down upon us. I have to admit I enjoyed having lunch with you.” 

Scott perked up. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“No. It’s the truth.” She thought about the half-hour on Thursday she’d reserved for penmanship practice. Maybe she’d cancel that. “If you want to, I don't know, grab coffee sometime, I wouldn’t be opposed. As long as we don’t talk about _that_ show, I’d enjoy starting a… friendship with you.”

“You got yourself a deal, Court.” Scott grinned at her; she couldn’t help but smile back. Then he looked at the panel beside the door and chuckled. “Uh, is this a bad time to point out that neither of us pressed the elevator button?”

Courtney laughed and pressed the button. As they journeyed to ground level—the building was old and the elevator was slow—Scott pulled out his phone and typed. Before Courtney could ask what he was doing, her phone buzzed in her pocket. An unknown number had texted her.

 _Wanna get ice cream_?

She looked up at Scott, who watched her expectantly.

Courtney typed back, _Thursday at 4:30_?

Moments later, she got a response. _I was thinking more like now_.

She looked up at Scott. “Don’t you have homework to do?”

“Nothing that can’t wait until later.” He pocketed his phone. “I have a hankerin’ for rocky road.”

Rocky road _did_ sound good. A nice post-homework snack, perhaps.

The elevator door opened. Courtney found herself stepping through the threshold. She turned back to Scott and smiled.

“Let’s go, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> Scourtney has faded into obscurity, but idk, I thought they looked nice together. And since their relationship lasted literally less than a week, I figured it would be feasible for them to maybe link up again in the future. Also, Scott's TD bio said he wanted to be a CEO, so that's where that came from.
> 
> Every time I write from a new character's POV, I approach it as a challenge: how can I establish this character's voice? For Courtney, I decided a more advanced vocabulary and constant references to time would be the defining factors of her narration. So if you needed to look up some words, that's why—I was intentionally including the most pretentious synonyms I could find, haha.


End file.
